


Foreign Drink

by ChillyJackal



Series: Zootopia Oddities AU [7]
Category: Zootopia
Genre: 1920s, Anthro, Gen, Horror, Mobsters, TT Entry, lovecraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 19:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12613516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillyJackal/pseuds/ChillyJackal
Summary: After the completion of a big project in the Nocturnal District, a mammal finds a newer shadier job with a group of mobsters.





	Foreign Drink

The year was 1920, construction of the new water system in the Nocturnal District was coming to a close and various mammals were looking for work now that the job was done.

Marvin Motley had been working in construction most of his life, ever since his father taught him how to use a hammer and nails to put together little birdhouses in their spare time. He found plenty of work with the construction of Zootopia's various new sections and streets, and this latest foray into the depths of the Nocturnal District was no different. The mule lived for his craft, and the waterway project was another notch on his belt of the things he'd had a hoof in. 

However, the Nocturnal District job itself was something he had to struggle to even get involved in. Times were getting tough and finding work related to his specific talents that paid a proper amount was becoming rare. With the amount of predators gaining foothold on the unions and job markets work for "hoofers" like him was being made scarce as well. Even though a good pack mule was perfect for construction it was easier to just get some bears or wolves to do the work cheaper.

The payment for his services this time would no doubt need to last him longer than the ones previous, because he wasn't sure exactly when he'd find a job again. He decided to spend a tiny bit of his pay on a few drinks at a local bar, a place he and his co-workers frequented that was known for dodging the local prohibition laws by advertizing as temporary lodging for the construction crews. 

As Marvin downed his first illicit drink of the night he heard someone sit down beside him and tap his shoulder.

"S'cuse me friend, aren't you one of the guys workin' on the waterway?"

The mule looked down to see a raccoon in clean clothes, he recognized them as the fancy ones sold at the Wilde place in town, flashing him a big grin.

"Uh-huh. They don't need me down there anymore though, all the buildin' stuff is finished."

"Ain't that a shame. You look like you could still do more work."

Marvin raised an eyebrow and gave the raccoon a little grin.

"Well, if someone's offerin' work and it paid enough I reckon I'd be able to lend a hoof or two."

The little mammal beside him laughed and snapped his fingers.

"Barkeep, I'm gonna pay for my new friend's drinks tonight. We have some business to discuss."

The antelope behind the bar nodded absentmindedly as the raccoon held out his paw.

"Name's Seymour, Seymour Stripes. You can call me...an entrepeneur of sorts."

"Marvin."

He took the little paw in his hoof and shook carefully. He didn't want to break the little guy's arm.

"So, Mr. Stripes, you need somethin' built right? You got some cement that needs mixin' or some things put together?"

Seymour finally pulled his paw away and gave Marvin a strange look.

"Well, it ain't construction I'm after per se."

"Oh? So it's just liftin'?"

He started to get a bit of a bad feeling, the more he thought about it the more shady the situation was becoming.

"There's some liftin' yeah, but it ain't construction supplies."

The raccoon called over some drinks and took a sip from his glass. 

"Uh, Mr. Stripes."

"Call me Seymour Marv, we're friends here."

"Okay, Seymour, are we talkin' about somethin'..."

He lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Unlawful?"

Seymour took another long drink before replying.

"Marv, I like to make people happy. Right now, Zootopia ain't as happy as it could be, why's that? Cops are takin' people's fun away. By fun, I of course mean the freedom to consume precious alcohol, among other pleasures."

Marvin sighed, he should've known it was something like this.

"So yes, somethin' unlawful."

"Hey now, call it what you want but you know I'm right. People have a need in this city and I, dear Marvin, am here to give 'em what they want. You, just need to help me give it to 'em. Capiche?"

The mule took his drink at last and drained it in record time.

"How much is it gonna pay Seymour?"

"More than your job down in the sewers, how's that sound?"

Marvin put down his glass and tapped his fingers on the counter for a good minute before giving his answer.

"Alright, when do we start?"

 

A week after that first meeting, Marvin stood at the shutter door entrance to an area of the Nocturnal District's waterway he'd never seen before. Seymour had explained that he had some friends involved in the construction project, which is how he knew he'd be at the bar in the first place, and they'd made a sort of bootlegging hideout in an area that was once used to store the brick and cement mixers. 

He'd come to learn that Seymour was an investor in the original waterway project, and as an investor he was allowed to use the space after all was said and done with it, and he'd decided it made the perfect bootlegging hideout.

"There's my man! Marvin come on in buddy we've got lots of work to do today!" 

He was honestly surprised the raccoon had actually come himself, he looked more like the kind of mammal to have people like Marvin do the work while he stayed in some office somewhere, but no, he was here too.

"What needs liftin' Seymour?"

"Some equipment in the back, a few barrels of ale, not too much today. My boys are bringin' in somethin' special they found overseas to store here so I wanna make room."

He felt his ears flicker a bit, his curiosity tickled.

"Something overseas? Is it some kinda fancy drink?"

Seymour's expression changed a bit as he started to reply.

"Somethin' they called 'Mammifere Preserve'. Some kinda old language drink that's real popular with rich guys in other countries. The Lionheart family is paying quite a bit to get their hands on these special goods."

Marvin knew exactly nothing about other countries and their customs outside of some of the architecture his father told him about when he grew up, but he supposed hearing about strange foreign bootleg drinks was an experience.

"Just clear out the old stuff from the back with Harry and tell me when the work's all done up got it?"

"Got it Seymour."

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, lots of lifting and moving things with some rhinos and oxen, lots of trying not to step on mice and rats who scampered around between pipes they had used to patrol around the site in case police came snooping around, and a single porcupine in a ruined suit who was chatting with Seymour about some fancy things Marvin didn't understand.

He actually knew a few of the mammals from the waterway project, the entire thing felt just like the work they were doing before, like it never actually ended, though this was more illicit in it's intentions.

By the end of the day there was a loud knock on the entrance to the hideout, Seymour scrambled over excitedly and opened it up to another mammal wearing dirty clothing.

"Hey what took ya so long? Trouble gettin' the goods out of the harbor?"

The canine looking mammal shook his head quietly and walked in. The way he moved conveyed some sort of exhaustion or weakness, years of work had taught Marvin to catch the signs of someone who wasn't physically well on the job. He also seemed to catch Marvin looking at him and scowled a bit.

"No sir, just had some trouble sleeping on the boat ride back. Crew got spooked by stupid stories and wouldn't shut up about noises on the boat."

He sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve as he signaled for the other mammals outside to come in with their cargo. About 12 large ornate barrels were pulled in by a few elephants, each one heavily sealed and in surprisingly good condition, odd patterns covering each one that seemed to captivate Marvin's eyes as he stared at them.

"Damn, they really made 'em look fancy didn't they Seymour?"

"It's just some overseas booze, stop staring like that. Damn hoofer."

Marvin glared at the canine, who realized he'd said that out loud and panicked as he struggled to spit out some sort of empty apology before Seymour interrupted him.

"Now now, we ain't gonna have any of that here today. I'm real sorry Marv, Johnny spends a lot of time at sea and doesn't realize we're supposed to all be friends here. Ain't that right Johnny?"

The predator gulped and nodded as Seymour's eyes seemed to burn right through him.

"Just start getting those barrels into the back room okay Marv? I'll give Johnny a little talkin' to while you do the hard liftin'."

Johnny let out a sigh as Marvin started helping the other mammals carry the strange barrels into the back of the hideout. Right away he noticed that unlike the barrels they were moving before, these ones had more weight to them, like the liquid inside was somehow thicker. He wasn't sure how he knew, but it just felt thicker. He could spot a strange looking label on the side but couldn't read it at this angle.

Each time a barrel slammed down there was an audible gurgle from the liquid inside, making him wince a bit when he started worrying maybe something had gone off in the barrels during the trip. He'd have to bring it up with Seymour later, right now he still had a few more of the barrels to put down.  
Eventually, only Marvin and Harry were left with Seymour in the hideout. Marvin deecided it was time to tell him about the barrels.

"Uh, Seymour?"

"Hm? Oh Marv, you okay?"

He felt so silly talking about this now.

"Barrel's are kinda strange, sounds like somethin's gone bad in them, or is that how they're supposed to sound? I ain't no booze expert so..."

Seymour gave him a worried expression but seemed hesitant to talk more about it.

"Well Marv, Johnny said they were kinda weird when he got 'em, guys down there said it's how it's supposed to be so here's hopin' we didn't get scammed."

He looked down and started muttering to himself.

"Wouldn't be surprised, damn old world savages."

"Mr. Seymour!"

A small rat scampered over from one of the pipes and handed the raccoon a letter.

"Bad news Seymour, we just spotted some cops lookin' around the waterway. We think they might be lookin' for our operation!"

The raccoon hissed and tugged on his ears.

"Oh god dammit! How'd they even figure out where we are!? Okay, calmin' down."

He pulled out a cigar and lighter, fumbling with both before managing to light the tobacco and taking some puffs.

"Alright, we'll need someone to stay overnight from now on and watch the Preserve. I spent too much getting this stuff over here to have some cops steal and dump it."

"I can't stay. Wife and kids need me."

Harry grunted rather sheepishly and stepped back.

"Johnny's goin' back on the water tonight too, and the other boys are already gone. Marv, can you stay a few nights?"

Marvin thought about it, he didn't have a family to take care of, and this seemed like a good chance to maybe get a little bit more out of Seymour.

"I'll do it for a little extra scratch, if that's fine by you Seymour."

The raccoon smirked and put his hands on his hips.

"Well Marv, aren't we gettin' all business-like? Alright, I admire your work ethic, you can watch the place at night until the cops buzz off."

With that, Harry and Seymour walked out, leaving Marvin alone with Johnny, who was about to walk out when the mule stopped him.

"Hey, what the hell is this preserve stuff anyways?"

Johnny let out an exhausted sigh.

"Listen up hoofer, normally I wouldn't bother telling one of you something like this, but Seymour likes you for some reason, so I'll tell you once."

He got close to Marvin and whispered.

"Some of the things we deliver ain't for some random hoofer patsy to know about. Just do yer work and keep quiet."

With that, Johnny left and Marvin, now alone, stumbled around in the poorly lit chamber until he found a cheaply made hammock, more than likely made for Seymour to lounge in while they worked.

"Here's hopin' I don't just break the damn thing."

He carefully pulled himself into the hammock and sighed with relief as it managed to stay in one piece. He closed his eyes and started to slowly drift off to sleep.

 

Marvin's eyes shot open as something shook him from his slumber. It took him a bit to figure out exactly what it was, but after listening long enough he knew what it was.

"Someone knockin'."

He slowly rolled out of the hammock and reached down, grabbing the first thing he could find to use as a weapon, in this case an old pipe, and sneaking over to the entrance to the hideout. As he listened more closely to the knocking however, it didn't sound like the metal door, nor was it even coming from that direction. Checking the little pipes used by the rodents yielded similar results. He did notice something about the knocking as he really started to listen:

"Sounds like...wood?"

He swallowed hard and looked over in the direction where they stored the barrels. He held the pipe tightly as he approached the other end of the room, ready to strike at any moment if he had to.

"Hey, anyone back there? Seymour? You come back to check the Preserve? Harry?"

The knocking got louder as he got closer, a muffled knock that was filling the entire hideout and making his heart race as he got closer and closer to its source.

"If there's a cop back there I'm gonna bean ya! Last warnin', show yourself!"

The mule readied his pipe and jumped forward suddenly, holding it up in the most threatening manner he could imitate and staring at the pile of barrels in the otherwise empty section of the sewer. He scanned the entire room until he felt his eyes starting to hurt before lowering the pipe and sighing to himself. 

"Goddamn, think workin' under the Nocturnal District would make ya less jumpy."

He thought back to previous jobs he'd been a part of; Constructing the big hotel in Sahara Square, some buildings in the Rainforest District, more dangerous jobs with angry locals and the occasional drunken homeless mammal threatening him and his friends as they worked. 

This was just some stupid bumps in the night, he could deal with it. As he turned around he suddenly felt something on his foot, he looked down to see some sort of liquid on the floor.

"Oh hell."

The puddle was coming out from under the barrel behind him. He shook his head and tried to look it over for damage, any sort of reason it'd leak like this.

"That preycist pred probably broke the damn thing on the way here like a moron. Gonna have to tell Seymour tomorrow."

He shook off the liquid on his hoof and went back to the hammock, trying to ignore the knocking and strange sounds that started back up when he left the room with the barrels. He wouldn't let his dumb imagination ruin a chance for a good pay.

 

The next morning Seymour pulled up the entrance to the hideout and came in with his usual bright attitude.

"Marvin pal how was last night? Any cops come around?"

The mule gasped and fell out of the hammock, he didn't even realize he'd overslept and quickly put himself back together as Seymour skipped over to him.

"Whoa Marv, rough night? You weren't sneakin' a sip at the Preserve were ya?"

He laughed and shook his head.

"Naw Seymour, just uh, just had some trouble sleepin'. Heard some noises last night."

He remembered the leak and coughed as he tried to change the topic to that.

"Checked the barrels last night an' one of them has a leak."

"What!? Which one!?"

Seymour ran over to the barrels and started inspecting them like a madman.

"Hey, you tryna' mess with me Marv? There ain't no leaks."

"Wait, huh?"

Sure enough, the floor around the Preserve was bone dry.

"When I checked last night I stepped in some of it. Maybe it dries up fast?"

"Nah Marv, it'd still be leakin' if there was a hole."

"Maybe some sea water got on 'em?"

The pair tried to figure out where the liquid from the night before had gone, or even come from, but the arrival of the other workers marked the end of the investigation and the return to work.

The entire day was completely different than the one before, Marvin felt a strange anxiety the entire time he was helping out with the other bootleggers, the feeling of being watched or stared at as he tried to complete his work. He tried to see if maybe Seymour was watching them, but the raccoon had been napping in the hammock he used the night before. He could also hear the thumping noises, strange sounds that he swore only he could hear, as everyone else seemed to be completely oblivous to them. At one point Harry stopped him and started speaking.

"Can't wait to get rid of those things."

Marvin jumped a bit when Harry came up behind him and crossed his arms.

"You smell 'em while we were unloading them yesterday? Stinks like hell, dunno why some rich lions would drink that garbage but I don't question what rich folks are into."

"When are we getting rid of 'em Harry?"

"Sometime tomorrow if the cops don't show up first."

Marvin cursed under his breath and rubbed the back of his neck, hopefully after tonight he'd just get his money and go back to moving things. He'd heard some of the boys talking about getting some carrot ale from the old Hopps place in Bunnburrow and he figured carrot based alcohol was a good change from these things.

Night came faster than Marvin wanted, everyone said their goodbyes and Seymour gave him some instructions before he left.

"If ya spot another leak, mark the barrel with somethin' and we'll give it a better look tomorrow. We'll open it up and check if we have to. Don't open it yourself, wait until I'm back to look at it too."

He handed Marvin a bucket of paint and a brush and walked out, the entrance closing again and leaving him alone with the barrels. He turned to the Preserve and took a deep breath before speaking.

"Alright, you all keep quiet tonight and we'll send ya off tomorrow to some very happy rich folks to drink. Understood?"

He chuckled a bit, feeling ridiculous that he was talking to a bunch of barrels as he started towards the hammock for the night.

Then he heard the whispers.

His ears twitched as something seemed to just scrape the edge of his hearing, his entire body going cold as he heard it coming from the back of the hideout where the Preserve was sitting.

"Dammit, just your imagination Marvin...you're just spooked from last night, just go to bed."

He finally reached the hammock when he heard it, a dripping noise.

"This ain't happenin', please don't let this be happenin'."

He closed his eyes and slowly turned around, the reflection of the dim lights on the floor told him that indeed, the barrel was leaking again.

"Alright you lil' wooden bastard, I've gotcha this time!"

Marvin grabbed the paintbrush and bucket and carefully crept up to the barrel where the liquid was now oozing out of the top, a nasty sharp smell hitting him as he dipped the brush in the bucket and marked the barrel. 

"Geeze, this stuff stinks somethin' fierce. Who would drink this crap?"

He held his breath a bit as he moved closer to inspect the fluid, noticing that the top of the barrel was now loose and coming off, allowing the liquid to bubble out. The noises were probably the wood coming loose over its time in the hideout. The whispering was probably just the scraping and bubbles escaping from within.

"Must've put it down wrong and knocked it loose, god damn. There goes my extra pay I guess."

He sighed loudly and tried to fiddle with the top as much as he could without touching it. Maybe he could save face and fix it, and Seymour would never know. He went back to the hammock and looked around for his hammer, feeling a bit of relief when he found it and went back to the oozing barrel.

"Time to end this, you're gonna stop keepin' me up at night and interuptin' my work."

He raised the hammer for a swing when suddenly the barrel began oozing more and more in front of him, lifting off the top and causing it to fall on the floor, the contents of the barrel laid bare for him as he stared down in horror.

Inside the barrel, stewing in the strong smelling alcohol and looking up at him, was a bald deer, a doe probably, clearly dead and curled up in the solution, her body bony and soft looking at the same time as her flesh squished against the sides of the barrel, multiple eyes and strange appendages growing off her as she made horrible rasping sounds and gurgled in agony.

Marvin didn't spend the rest of the night in the hideout, and he didn't bother collecting his pay from Seymour. He didn't even bother going to the police, he knew he'd just be arrested for even being involved. 

He eventually ended up back at the bar, and after plenty of drinks of actual alcohol he started to open up to the bartender, who took notice of his shaken demeanor.

"Somethin' wrong Marvin? Seem kinda out of it since the Stripes job."

"Sidney, you know what Mammifere Preserve is?"

The bartender raised an eyebrow and Marvin tried to explain.

"It's, Seymour said it was a drink for fancy people, ever hear of it?"

Sidney suddenly got closer to Marvin and kept his voice low.

"Marvin, Mammifere Preserve isn't a drink, it's old savage language."

"Old savage for what...?"

"It means, Preserved Mammal."


End file.
